Revelations of the Ultimate Kind
by Terra King
Summary: Second Drabble Up. AU Fifth-Year. This is a shot at how the Justice League reacts to Harry's life story after fate brings him to them, and destiny sees that he becomes a cherished member of their family. Whether or not this evolves into a full-fledged story will depend entirely on reviews and suggestions - see inside for more details. So please help me make a choice. Thank you all.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or Harry Potter. I just borrow them for personal amusement, no money made.

Author's Note: I have been intending to write a Harry Potter and Justice League Crossover fanfiction, but I severely doubt my abilities to do so. Hence, I decided to take a leap of faith and come up with a one-shot "drabble" or extract, post it up, and then come to a final decision depending on the reviews and the suggestions I receive for this. This scene is focused on the League's reaction to Harry's revealing his life-story to them. Please kindly assist me to make a choice as to continue or not continue, everyone. Thank you.

Warning: There will be mentions of abuse. If you are a Dumbledore fan, please turn back now. If you do not approve of same-sex relationships and cannot stand even the slightest implications of them, please also turn back now. You all have been warned.

* * *

Fourteen. The age of discovering how attractive the opposite – or the same, or both – sex can be, the guilty joy of sneaking out of bed past curfew, the exhilarating sense of daring that came with arguing with parents as the realisation that they are not always right increases, the best ways to sweet-talk one's way out of detention or academic failures. Granted, when some of the superheroes like Superman and Wonder Woman were fourteen, they were coming into their extraordinary powers and seasoning themselves in the arts of combat in an unconscious effort to prepare for their impending destinies.

But…generally, it was still a pretty innocent age.

Fourteen-year-olds do not vividly remember every single excruciating, unthinkable detail of their parents' murder, especially when it was an event that occurred when they were but one-year-old.

They do not work as a constantly abused, constantly humiliated servant in a household where they were supposed to be treated with affection.

They do not fight evil Dark Lords.

They do not have teachers with an incorporeal form of a madman who wanted all non-magical folk dead on the back of their heads.

They do not save the Philosopher's Stone.

They do not fight Basilisks in secret chambers.

They do not fend off hundreds of soul-sucking monsters that drain all joy and hope out of people.

They do not compete in deadly tournaments consisting of fire-breathing dragons, killer mermaids, and monster-infested mazes.

They do not witness their parents' murderer resurrected.

They do not engage in duels to the death the instant after said resurrection.

But once again, just when the League thought they had the mystery that was Harry Potter solved, he pulled another rabbit from his hat. This was a boy that defied all known facts of life. It was not fair to Harry to have so much dumped on him at such a young age, but the fact that he could carry the weight even when it was dumped on him…was _absolutely_ pride-inspiring. After all, the League – especially the Seven Originals – had come to look upon Harry as a younger brother, or Batman's and Wonder Woman's case, their very own child.

Batman had thought that Harry's background would be somewhat similar to his, or Dick's, or Tim's. But as Harry revealed all of his adventures, all his brushes with death, all the horrors he had been forced to witness, and all of the pain and suffering he had been forced to endure since infancy, he realised how wrong he was.

Compared to Harry, his situation and those of his wards' could be counted as nothing. He also learned how genuinely _brave_ Harry was.

As brave as any true hero, if not more so.

Hecate had been right: it was _amazing_ how much Harry have faced and have the strength and courage to do so.

Needless to say, when Harry had come to the end of his story, there was a silence where one could near a pin drop, or even one's heart beating. More than one face was wet with tears…Diana's the most prominent one. Shayera had given up brushing her tears away. Flash pinched his nose hard. Zatanna was sobbing silently.

"This is the story of my life. Thank you all for listening to it from the beginning to the end. But now…if nobody minds, I would like to get some rest."

The instant the Lasso of Truth was withdrawn, Harry collapsed…

Into Diana's waiting arms.

He was sound asleep.

It had taken every ounce of physical and emotional strength he possessed to reveal the story of a life where even the simplest of joys was the rarest commodity, and where there was a constant wondering as to whether or not the next breath he took would be his last.

As Diana gently stroked the midnight-dark hair, whispered assurances despite knowing they might not be heard, and tears flowed down her beautiful face, it struck each and every one of the League realised that they had witnessed yet another act of Harry's unparalleled courage: the boy's mind might be exhausted from remembering, his heart drained from the ache of unhappy memories, but he had kept his promise to them. He had told them nothing but the truth. He had not looked away from the truth. He had not embellished or lied away the past to make his present less bitter. Instead, he had trod once more that long, unexpected path that brought him to this place, reliving every mistake, every tear, and every fear; he had told his deepest feelings about a world where, he had come to realise, had offered him more heartache than happiness despite it being the last vital link to his parents' memory.

"I will take him to his room."

Carrying the unresponsive boy as carefully as if he was made of porcelain in her arms, Diana left, her heart aching as she felt how light he really was. Flash quietly followed her, humming a low soothing tune and gently stroking Harry's hair in an attempt at reassurance. Despite his heavy, troubled heart, the Fastest Man Alive could not help but notice how lovely Harry was: the rich, thick hair was so dark it had the prettiest blue highlights, forming a dramatic contrast to flawless alabaster skin kissed by summer roses. His initial assessment about the eyebrows being gull-winged had been accurate, and they hovered perfectly over almond-shaped eyes. In sleep, long, lush indigo lashes dusted high, chiselled cheekbones.

He looked beautiful, as beautiful and adorable as a cherub. Yet there was a haunted tragic quality to that beauty that made it seem as though it was a mirage that a slight breeze could blow away in an instant. He looked vulnerable, lost, sad…_so young._

Younger than his fourteen years.

So much younger.

_Such delicate beauty…such fragile innocence…how had it survived destruction at the hands of those monsters, those horrors?_

_Never mind that now. Do not worry, child. You are safe now here. As long as Wally West breathes, no one will ever hurt you, or touch a single strand of hair on your head against your will. That is a promise…_

It took the most supreme effort to restrain himself from breaking or hitting something till there was nothing left of it, but Superman managed it. "He really is the bravest child I have ever been privileged to meet."

"_We_ have ever been privileged to meet, Clark, _we._" John corrected silently, his dark handsome features grim. He turned to Batman, who was looking as though murder might not be such a bad idea after all. "What do you intend to do now, Daddy Bats?"

"Take the _best_ care I can of certain issues. First the Dursleys, then Voldemort, and last but not least…_Dumbledore._"

"I propose putting Mr. I-Always-Know-What's-Best before Mr. Snake-Face." Green Arrow spoke up suddenly. His countenance was as cold and menacing and sinister as Batman's, but it seemed as if he was also simmering with the heat of unmistakable fury._ Fire and ice, _Speedy thought, shrinking a little at the sight of his mentor's rage. He had never seen him like this before. _Green Arrow is on fire and ice._

But the emerald Robin Hood was not done.

"Mr. Snake-Face may be a real menace, but we have dealt with worse. It will be a breeze for us to settle him. It is Mr. I-Always-Know-What's-Best we have to worry about, especially considering his power and influence in Harry's world. Sooner or later, he is going to realise where Harry is, and then he will pull every dirty trick from his sleeve to get him back under his control. He needs his White King for checkmating after all. So…I say we deal with him first before going after the snake."

Kara cracked her knuckles. "Ollie is right. Voldemort is bad, but Dumbledore is worse. He had set it all up so that Harry will need to fight that monster, ingraining the need to save people, to play the hero. To play his White King. If he is as intelligent and cunning and powerful as Harry says he is, then he will be coming after us once he finds out Harry is here. We need to stop him first."

Shayera smiled viciously and slapped her mace against her other hand, for there was no sensation like focusing on what needed to be done to amend an extremely bad situation. "I second that notion."

"I third that." Zatanna put in, brushing away the last of her tears and pulling herself back to control. There was a new light of purpose now in her red-rimmed eyes. "That old goat needs to pay."

Black Canary put her hands on her hips. "Sorry, ladies, but you will get him _only_ after he have gone a few rounds with _me._"

_No, oh, no. I appreciate your thirst for righteous vengeance, ladies. But all of you will have your turns_ only_ if there is anything left of him after _I_ am done with him._ Batman and Green Arrow thought in perfect unison, hiding their approving smiles with the practiced ease of socialites.

As more and more voiced their willingness to mete out punishment on Harry's behalf, the Man of Steel sighed. It was times like this where he hated always having to be a role model for others, and where he envied Bruce's freedom to be a good deal more frightening than he was allowed to be. The Justice Lord Superman, Project Cadmus, Hamilton's betrayal and subsequent comparing him to the Devil, Luthor's taunting…they had forever destroyed, if not diminished, whatever desires he had with thoroughly mastering the powers of intimidation and fear-induction.

Control was paramount to the _First Among Equals_ after all. For there was too much at risk.

Hence, as much as he hated to do this, he cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "I know that there is no need for me to remind you all that the League does not kill people. No matter how much we want to."

Green Arrow stepped up, an expression of disbelief and indignation on his face. "Clark –"

Superman held up a hand. "I am not saying that those who had hurt Harry so should go unpunished. I agree with everyone here that they have to pay for what they have done to him. And they have to pay _dearly._ Dumbledore most of all. Truth be known, I myself personally think that he is as evil as Voldemort, as evil as any monster we have been forced to send to oblivion. They at least were upfront about being bad, but he…with all his dark secrets, his subtle manipulations, his ceaseless games, his constant proclamations that his actions are all for the greater good…I think he is an utter schmusk."

Shayera folded her arms. "Then why, Clark?"

* * *

That is all for now, folks. Please help me make a choice, and remember that I am always open to suggestions. Thank you all...


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or Harry Potter. I just borrow them for personal amusement, no money made.

Author's Note: I must say, the amount of positive reviews I have received is a true pleasant surprise. I had never expected such a positive response. However...I am sorry to say that I have certain private matters that have to be settled first before I can put my heart, my soul, my spirit, and of course my mind into writing the story from top to bottom. Hence, to sweeten the pill that I am inevitably delivering to those who have urged me to convert this into a full story, I have come up with this second drabble. This scene is focused as to how Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus react as to Harry's growing unwillingness to return with them since he has found a new true family with the League.

Warning: This extract is centered on self-reflection, and the subsequent breakdowns because of it. If you are a Dumbledore fan, please turn back now. If you are not one for emotional scenes or self-reproach, please also turn back now. You all have been warned.

P.S.: To those who wondered as to how Harry ended up with the Justice League, allow me to remind you that so far, this is only a DRABBLE, an EXTRACT, and hence obviously not Chapter One.

* * *

It was Hermione. "I thought you might not be in bed yet."

Ron managed a small, sad smile. "Woman's intuition, they call it?"

"It is times like this that make me sincerely wonder as to whether you are silly or clever, Ron." Hermione confessed, her face worn with exasperation though there was a slight twinkle in her eyes. She sat down on the bed. "Sometimes I even think that if you bothered to put the entirety of your heart and your mind into your studies, you could actually beat _me._"

Ron shook his head at once. "You are the cleverest and most knowledgeable witch of our generation, Hermione. Never doubt that. After all these years, you have proven that again and again. If it were not for your intellect, your brains…I do not know where Harry and I would be without you."

"Cleverness, brilliance, intelligence, wittiness…all _subjective,_ Ron, all _subjective._ I may be a good scholar, but only in terms of book-learning. You and Harry are intelligent in your respective ways. Do not forget: _you_ were the one who got us through McGonagall's chessboard trial and figured out that the Chamber of Secrets was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. And till now, no one – not even me – has been able to beat you in a game of chess. Harry was the one who worked out the secret of the Mirror of Erised, confirm Slytherin's monster as a Basilisk and as to how it had been petrifying its victim with just a hint from me, and he had scored full marks for DADA in our third year – something that I failed to achieve. Not to mention that he has always had an uncanny knack for spotting details that others do not."

"Well, he was always the most resourceful of us three."

It was then that they both froze.

Harry.

They had arrived at the subject of Harry.

Harry, their dearest friend, who may or may not be returning to them, despite the fact that they both needed him so much. Not only as a leader, a protector, but also as the glue that kept their seemingly tight-knit group together and functioning normally.

Contrary to what most think, Ron and Hermione were well-aware of their personal flaws, and it was an unspoken yet acknowledged fact between them that it was only Harry who had kept them from going overboard. If it were not for Harry, Ron's self-esteem issues would have worsened, and he might have lost his individuality by squandering his entire life in trying to replicate his brothers. He would never have realised his own worth. If it were not for Harry, Hermione would still be all alone, still be lost in a Wonderland where books were everything, and in the printed word was where the only truth was. She would never have opened up and learned how to make friends. She would never have realised that there was more to life than learning, and that the written word could actually be unreliable.

After all they had been through, it was impossible to imagine going on without him.

Hermione shifted closer towards Ron. "I have been thinking about what you said this afternoon. That Harry might not keep going, might not come back to us, even if You-Know-Who has been defeated once and for all."

Ron sighed and tried to put on a brave smile. "I was angry and upset. I should not have said it. Merlin knows it does no good to ponder over it."

Hermione's eyes were sad and dark with unshed tears. It was no use denying it: the truth hurts. "You meant, I suppose, that we – Professor Dumbledore, the Order, the two of us, and the entire wizarding world at large – have broken Harry. Beyond repair. We have broken him to the extent in which he has become thoroughly disillusioned with our world. Hence, even if he decides to come back, our relationship can never go back to the way it once was. The two of us would be _lucky_ to be viewed as acquaintances. His coming back would be for one sole reason: You-Know-Who. The moment where he gets rid of You-Know-Who…is the moment where he leaves us forever."

At that, there was a pause of utter silence. Hermione brushed her tears and took a deep breath to choke down her sobs. It would do no good to break down now. Ron did not cry. But he had gone deathly pale. He looked exhausted. _Resigned._ "Merlin, I regret it. I regret it so much." Hermione moaned. "You were right all along, Ron, we never should have listened to them when they told us not to write or try to communicate with Harry. If we had –"

"I doubt it would have made much of a difference anyway." Ron confessed quietly, rising from the chair to sit on his bed. The two friends stared at each other, united by mutual grief and the hindsight that inevitably followed tragedy. "You remember how he was treated when we lost 150 points in our first year, and how he was _after_ he stopped You-Know-Who from stealing the Philosopher's Stone? And you remember when he was once suspected as Slytherin's Heir because he was a Paselmouth, and that suspicion was disproved only because _you_ were attacked? Well, those constant changes in universal attitude towards him shook him, I reckon. He told me so in our second year, after you were attacked. He told me that the way the wizarding world treated him sometimes made him want to run away. I never believed him…until now. He really has run away because it became too much for him."

There was another silence. Two large tears rolled down Ron's cheeks, but he quickly brushed them away, and his look at Hermione took on a glint of hope. "But I think you have a better chance at remaining in his good books than I do, Hermione. After all, when the chips were down, you were more there more for him than I ever was. Especially during our fourth year." He shook his head in self-disgust as he reminisced what had to be the stupidest, most selfish period of his life. "I cannot believe that I had been such a brat, especially after everything we had gone through together."

Hermione had to laugh at that, albeit weakly. "Ron, friendship is not perfect, and sometimes it screws up. Our relationship had had its ups-and-downs, but none of the three of us were without blame in those instances. We have all made our respective share of mistakes, but we have managed to come through as one in the end. Harry has forgiven you for that a long time ago, and so have I. We three have always been getting along, then arguing over trivial matters, then giving one another the cold shoulder, and then patching up again." She brightened as something struck her. "Maybe this is just another of those instances. One more test for our friendship. Chances are that Harry would give this world and _us_ another chance, and we would graduate from Hogwarts together."

Ron wished to Merlin with every inch of his soul and being that he could share in Hermione's dawning optimism, but he could not. He had long since realised, with an insight born of burgeoning maturity, that there was a very real possibility that the wizarding world might never see Harry Potter again, despite what Dumbledore and the Order might say or do.

_Dumbledore…his mother…Sirius…Remus…Snape…the Order…_the thought of them used to make his blood boil, especially after he learned how Harry had suffered because of their inaction and their uncanny ability to go "blind, deaf, and mute" when they should not be, but now that anger was tempered by a weary remorseful sadness. _What was the point? I am as guilty and to-blame as any of them. The signs had been there all along, but I had either overlooked them, or failed to recognise them, or chose to ignore them as figments of my imagination._

"I hate to be pessimistic, Hermione, I really do, but I do not know about that. I cannot envision that happening. Professor Dumbledore may preach tolerance, understanding, and forgiveness, but I believe that he has become so caught-up in his little fantasy world that he has forgotten that reality does not work that way. There are some wounds that could run too deep for healing, too painful for forgiveness, even for someone with Harry's love and compassion. That was part of why I lashed out at him: I was afraid that he had inflicted Harry with those wounds through _us, _Hermione_._ I was afraid, so afraid that he had cost us Harry's friendship. Cost us all any chances of Harry willingly coming back to us."

"Ron…"

"And besides, we have to take into consideration whether or not the Justice League will let him come back to us. Especially Batman. From what I have seen and heard, he will definitely be the one who raises the strongest objection to Harry coming back. He is deeply fond of Harry. I think he is the one who is intending to officially adopt Harry."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Batman? Officially adopt Harry?"

"I encountered him when I was picking up groceries for Mom. We talked. Rest assured, though, that he did not harm or influence or do anything bad to me in anyway. He was decent, courteous…gentlemanly, even. But in the subtle way that you say that he was infamous for, Hermione; he made extremely clear that he did not approve of Harry returning to our world. He seems to believe that Harry will spiritually die if he comes back, if not _both_ physically and spiritually. And given what we know of the League's general overall reaction towards Professor Dumbledore, I say they agree with Batman wholeheartedly."

Hermione hung her head._ What would our world be like if three became two? How are we supposed to carry on without him? He is such an important part of our lives._ "What do you yourself think, Ron? Do you think he is right? Do think Harry will die if he comes back?"

Their focus, she suddenly realised, should be more on whether or not what would happen to Harry if he decided to come back. Not whether or not he decided to come back.

Ron looked thoughtful, as though he genuinely contemplated that unthinkable possibility. "I do not know, Hermione," he said at last. "I do not know. I have never thought about that before. Not even once. Never ever. What kind of best friend would I be if I actually thought about something as terrible as _that_ happening every now and then? My Dad always told me that self-fulfilling prophecies can be extremely powerful, and hence we should always be careful as to what we say or even think, because we never know when they might actually come true. All I know for sure is that...Professor Dumbledore is not on the League's Christmas list, and if he plans to take Harry back by force, they are not giving up without the best fight they could give. And I am scared that if –"

"If – and that is an extremely big "If" – Professor Dumbledore manages to get Harry back by force, all he will get is a puppet, a soulless doll. Something no better than a corpse. Is that what you are trying to say?" Hermione interrupted him. There were no tears from her, for there were some kinds of silent hurts that were beyond tears, but worse than heartbreak. An agony that both of them were coming to understand too well despite their young age.

"But what will we do without him, Ron? I cannot speak for everyone, but the two of us need him. Desperately. Sincerely. Not as the Boy-Who-Lived, but as one of our dearest friends. He has always been there for us. Can you imagine us without Harry? Can you imagine Hogwarts without Harry?"

Ron sighed. "I cannot. Merlin, I just cannot. But we also have to face reality."

_A reality where Harry may or may not be with us._

"It does not seem right to leave Harry with the likes of Batman and the League, considering the kind of lifestyle they lead, and yet it also does not seem right to have Harry come back to us. What then is the right answer? What should be done that is accurate?"

"Hermione, as much as I do not like to admit it, the League was there for Harry at a time where no one else was. Where he would have died because none of us were there to help pick up the pieces, glue them back together, and truly care for it as a whole."

"I am not discounting what they had done for Harry, Ron, but –"

"But you want our best friend back, right?"

There was a pause.

Then, without consideration, without hesitation, as though she had meant to do it all along, Hermione pulled Ron into a hug, arms tight around him, clinging to him as if she was a drowning person and him a life-preserver. Ron was unsurprised. He wrapped his arms around her, patting her on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could.

Unbeknownst to them, there was an Extendable Ear on the floor near the door. It had been there the instant Hermione had walked in.

The entire Order of the Phoenix had heard everything.

From the beginning to the end.

* * *

"Chocolate, Moony?"

Sirius had thought that Remus was crying, but when he took his hands away from his face, he was not. He looked broken. Vulnerable. He spoke, and his voice was trembling with suppressed emotion. "Yes, Sirius?"

Sirius was holding two cups of steaming hot chocolate with – if what he smelled was accurate – mini marshmallows, a wry grin on his handsome face though his heart was heavier than it had ever been. "Would you like some chocolate, Moony?"

"Love to. Thanks."

Werewolves always had a taste for sweets, driven by their need to preserve their strength and to replenish energy that each monthly transformation inevitably depleted, and hence Remus' intense favour for chocolate, which he had loved even before he had been bitten. In their school days, he had been known to devour an entire chocolate figure by himself, especially if the transformation had been a very nasty one. There was no sensation more blissful to Remus than letting the chocolate melt on his tongue, sending soothing thrills all over his body like a lover's caress, and the subsequent rush of energy that chased away the exhaustion that often plagued him because of his condition.

But tonight, the deliciousness of the marshmallow-enhanced chocolate failed to delight his palate.

He could not enjoy it, not when his heart was as sorrowful as that of Sirius'. "Sleepless too, Padfoot?"

It was an unnecessary question, but any conversation needed a start, whether it was stupid or not.

"Sleepless and sad to my very soul, Moony."

"Same for me." Remus sighed, a sad and anguished sound. "I cannot stop thinking about everything that has happened to Harry because of us. I cannot get Ron's and Hermione's conversation out of my mind. Part of me feels guilty about intruding on what was supposed to be a private conversation between intimate friends, but part of me is glad that I did. I think we all needed to hear that, especially Albus. They may be children, but only in years, not in thoughts and experience. And even the youngest of children could have a wisdom that surpasses adults."

Sirius took a sip of his chocolate. His silver-blue eyes, the colour of the ocean after a storm, were bright with a fierce grief-tempered intensity. "Remus," he started hesitantly, silently, as though struggling to control himself. "Do you…do you think I am to blame? Is Harry's pain and Harry's suffering my fault? Is the situation we are facing today my fault?"

"No, Sirius. None of us here are without blame in this matter. At that moment, we did what we thought was for the best, though the results received turned out to be totally, wholly opposite of what we had hoped for. As the Muggles said: _The road to Hell is paved with good intentions._ No one wanted what had happened to happen. But it did." He ran a hand through his hair. It was evident that it took every ounce of his inner strength to keep from breaking down. "Besides, pointing the finger at one another will not solve anything. We cannot change the past."

"Yes. We cannot change the past, but do you think we would even have a chance to protect the future for the better?"

"What do you mean, Sirius?"

Sirius took a large gulp of chocolate to choke down the rising sob in his throat. He was growing hot with torment. "I meant Harry. Ron was right about one thing: if Harry had wanted to come back, he would have a long time ago. The fact that he did not…it says more than we can imagine, right? It actually says a good deal about his true thoughts and true feelings with regards to us and the League. Do you think he will give us another chance? Do you think he will ever forgive us?"

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it. There was nothing he could say. No comforting assurances he could give, no brilliant theories to disprove Sirius' claims. But the honest answer was too terrible to even think about it. So his reply was the best he could give under the current circumstances: "I do not know, Sirius. I honestly do not know."

Sirius gave a low broken chuckle. "There was a time where I believed that "I do not know" did not exist in your dictionary, Remus."

"I am flattered by your high opinion of my intelligence, Sirius, but I have to disappoint you: I am not omniscient."

"But you knew James and Lily. And you know our Harry. You spent more time with him than I ever had." _And I have no one to blame but myself for that. I never should have gone after that rat. It has cost me everything._

"It is because I know and had spent _some time_ with Harry that I do not know what choice he will make. As confusing as it sounds, Sirius, it is because I know Harry that I do not know what he would do now. There are similarities between him and his parents, yes, but more than a few differences too. Do not forget: he may be their son, but he is also a unique individual in his own right, with his own mind, his own judgement, his own heart, and so on."

"Are you telling me that our Harry is a law unto himself?"

"In a way. That is why I do not know what he will do now." Remus took a drink of his chocolate. "I would love to be all-knowing, but I am not."

"Just like how Albus is not, though he has unknowingly deluded himself into thinking that he is. Oh, yes, the usual: _everything that I do is for the Greater Good._"

For a moment the only sound in the room was them drinking their chocolate. Finally, Remus cleared his throat. "Why are you not yelling?"

Sirius stared at him, puzzled. "What?"

"Albus. You are angry with him, are you not? You have been furiously angry with him the instant we got into this mess. You have wanted to vent, have you not? Well, go ahead. I have already cast a soundproof spell. Curse at him like a hardcore sailor. Shriek about the part he has played in all this. Throw a tantrum about what he has done. Merlin, plot to turn him into a goat for real. I will not stop you or defend him. I swear I will not. He is not in my good books anymore, let alone my Christmas list. He deserves every bit of verbal abuse you could whip up."_ I would love to help, but years of refinement have rendered my verbal capabilities unsuitable for the task._

Sirius was silent for several moments, and then he drank the last of his chocolate and looked at his last surviving Marauder-friend in the eye. "I may have a bad temper, Remus, and I may not have your brains, but just like Ron said: _even one who is not the sharpest tool in the shed can think. Reflect._ Yes, I am angry with Dumbledore. Furiously angry. Angrier than I can ever express. But I also know that whatever revenge I could enact on him will not solve anything. It will not help Harry. It will not give him the childhood that he should have had; it will not give him the innocence he has lost. It will not heal his heart. And need I remind you that our hands are not clean in this matter to begin with?"

Remus moaned aloud. Both sides of him – the man and the wolf – had never been so grieved. He brushed away a tear. "No, you do not need to. You are right. We will be hypocrites to point the finger at him. We have failed Harry. Failed worse than Albus has, perhaps, considering what James and Lily had done for us."

"There are two sorry pairs here. One is Ron and Hermione. The other is you and me." Sirius took Remus' hand in his and rubbed it with his thumb gently. Tears were welling in his eyes, turning them liquid silver. The werewolf noted the lines etched in his friend's face, once a place where only laughter and witticisms reigned. But everything they had been forced to go through had aged him brutally and prematurely. "We have been given to see ourselves for what we have become, and yet we have responded like spoiled, selfish brats: unwilling to be taught and resentful of our discipline."

"But you and Ron seem reconciled, I think." He looked at him closely. "Whereas I am only resigned, and Hermione is getting closer to the verge of it."

Sirius gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. But his hand did not stop rubbing Remus' in an attempt at consolation, and Remus was reminded again as to why, through it all, Sirius was one of his most intimate friends. The Grim could occasionally be immature and downright childish, but his heart was in the right place, and when the situation called for it he was there to provide a listening ear and offer what consolations he could. "Oh, no, Remus, no! I am not reconciled, and I reckon neither is Ron in his heart of hearts. Harry might not know this, might not believe this, but there are still people in this world that has disappointed him so who love and care for him. Not as the legendary Boy-Who-Lived, not as the prophesied Chosen One, but as his own person. Too bad there is no chance of him believing that now, right?"

Remus stared at him, sober and grave.

"What do you think James and Lily would say if they saw what we have done to Harry, Remus? What do you think they would have said? What do you think they would do?" Sirius scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, his voice strained with unspeakable regret. "Some godfather I turned out to be, huh? I failed Harry. I failed us all."

Remus was up and around behind him in a flash, putting his arms around him. "I have as well, Sirius. You did not do it alone. You had plenty of help. All of us had failed to act when we should, and had failed to see the signs, including me. I believe that now, in James' and Lily's eyes, I am as unforgivable as you and Albus and Severus are. I stood idly by while Harry suffered and did not notice."

"Why is it that we people will only realise our mistakes when it is too late?" Sirius demanded, unable to hold back his tears. He felt hot moisture on his neck and knew that Remus was crying as well. "And why is it that we are still so cruel and so selfish that we still hope for the best, when we not deserve it at all?"

"Sirius?"

"This is the cruel selfish part of me saying it, Remus: I want Harry to come back to us." Sirius shuddered, and Remus held him tighter, as though keeping him from being swept away by a flow of cold black despair. "I want him to come back. I want him to know that we are sorry, and that we could change. I want him to see that we can change for the better. I want him to realise that we can help him put all the sad things away, and build a bright happy future here in this world altogether." He confessed desperately. "I want him to graduate from Hogwarts as Head Boy, find a worthy job, and have a family of his own. Merlin, I want him to give me god-grandchildren to spoil rotten." He met Remus' eyes. "But now…it is all wishful thinking, is it not? All that is never going to happen."

"Do not say that, Sirius. Since you have been so open-hearted with me, it is only fair that I return the favour now. Let me tell you: I want what you want, as much as you do. Besides, we still do not know what kind of decision Harry will make. The Justice League is comprised of noble and honourable people of their word, and they have made it clear that they will respect Harry's final decision, no matter what it is. Perhaps we could even reach a compromise of some kind." Remus observed. "Sirius, the past is behind us, and we cannot change it. It does not help, but it is a fact. We have to focus on the future, no matter how bleak it may be. As I keep telling you, beating ourselves up over our errors will not fix anything."

"But it is so difficult, Remus," Sirius said. "I feel so wretched, I want to apologise, but I know that does not really help anything, and there is the possibility that Harry will not believe how sorry I am for everything." He gulped, his tumultuous emotions surging beyond control. "I do not know what we are going to do, Remus. I am scared. I am so, so scared. My godson is slipping away from us, perhaps forever, as he can no longer stand this forsaken wizarding world. I want him happy and safe and free to make his own choices, but I also do not want him to lose him…"

Remus patted his hair. "Never mind, Padfoot, let it out. I am here."_ James, Lily, if you two can hear me, we are sorry. We are not asking for forgiveness, for we know we do not deserve it. We are just saying that, for how we have failed you both, how we have failed Harry, we are truly sorry._

* * *

…_broken Harry. Beyond repair…_

…_made him want to run away…He really has run away because it became too much for him…_

…_some wounds that could run too deep for healing, too painful for forgiveness…_

…_Harry will spiritually die if he comes back, if not _both_ physically and spiritually…_

…_all he will get is a puppet, a soulless doll. Something no better than a corpse…_

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office. Needless to say, tonight was a sleepless night for him as well, especially after what he had heard. He could not stop thinking about Ron's unexpected outburst. He could not stop thinking about the private chat between Ron and Hermione, which the surprisingly concerned twins had convinced every one of them to listen into – much to their mother's initial chagrin. He could not stop re-reading Harry's medical report...TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

Author's Second Note: That is all for now, folks. Please do remember that I am always open to suggestions, and please tell me what you all honestly think and feel about this. This second extract is also meant for you all to help me determine as to whether or not I have lost my touch, and if you all believe I can do a good job at this Crossover story. Thank you, everyone...


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